


Thunderspiration {Snowflakes, Cherry Blossoms, and Other Stuff That Lands On His Face}

by KissTheDream



Category: 3racha - Fandom, Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: 3RACHA, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Boys' Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One Shot, Random & Short, Short & Sweet, Short One Shot, concerned jisung, god i love fluff, i needed this so i wrote it, leader works too much, members to lovers, slight bad language, slight crack?, soft, straykids - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 22:35:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19733050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KissTheDream/pseuds/KissTheDream
Summary: Like the snowflakes had, now the cherry blossom petals fell on Chan’s face and hair entirely unnoticed. Again, Jisung would remove them, one by one. Delicately, but trying not to make it seem so.Han wasn’t sure whether to envy Chan, or feel sorry for him. Yet, Chan’s state bothered him."I wish he could be happy. At least a little bit. Even one millionth of how we feel in the studio when things are going well and inspiration strikes."There was another thought too, one that Jisung would always try not to entertain."I wish I could help more. I wish I could make him happy."





	Thunderspiration {Snowflakes, Cherry Blossoms, and Other Stuff That Lands On His Face}

* * * * *

It takes a particular kind of person to not notice when they have stuff all over their face and hair. Bang Chan was one of those people. He wouldn’t have noticed it for hours, if Jisung hadn’t swatted the snowflakes away. Carefully, _very_ carefully – yet trying to make it seems casual, indelicate.

Bang Chan gave him a quick smile, then proceeded to space out.

Jisung would never say it on air – not even mutter it to himself. It was too blunt, maybe a bit arrogant, and definitely not an idol-like thing to say.

But the truth remained – more than hard work, Han believed in inspiration.

He didn’t delude himself that he could survive in the harsh idol world on inspiration alone. But it had to come first.

It had to come with the abruptness and force of a storm. It had to stop him in his tracks. It had to numb his senses. It had to overtake him completely.

He called it _thunderspiration_.

_"It's the same even if I practice, I hate uncertainty the most_

_If you do it like that, go to the play station room to calm down."_

If the _feeling_ wasn’t there, there was no point in trying.

At times, thinking like this was risky. He recalled his trainee days: the ever-stuffy room where the mentors would judge his rap.

He hadn’t come up with lyrics. The _thunderspiration_ hadn’t visited him in a while.

But in tense situations like this, it tended to hit more than usual. So he would start rapping – secretly freestyling, but pretending to know the lyrics.

The teachers knew he was full of shit, he reckoned. But there was only so much they could say. His freestyling was good. It was energetic. It was articulate. It was… inspired. Even Changbin was begrudgingly impressed.

Hyunjin also knew. He hated it.

“All of us are working so hard – and you’re just waiting around for the fcking tooth fairy to make your inspiration fall from the sky!!”

Changbin would put it almost as bluntly.

“I don’t _care_ if you’re not feeling like it, Han, we have to finish this track today!!”

But the person from whom he could’ve expected the most scolding, always remained oddly silent. Bang Chan would say nothing.

He’d ignore Han’s occasional empty sheets of paper and bursts of bad mood. He’d leave him alone, even doing work in his place, until the thunderspiration would strike Han again.

And when it did, when the moment was right and inspiration paid Han a long-awaited visit, he’d work with Bang Chan in such a perfect harmony, it felt like actual magic.

They’d finish each other’s sentences and musical phrases, yelling over each other every time they came up with exactly the right way to fix a problem or to spice up a part of a song. Their hands would clash into each other as they’d suddenly grab for the laptop or the keyboard at the same time. They’d keep working in this frantically inspired state until the early hours of the morning, when the pale grey rays of sun would tiredly creep into the tiny studio.

And then, after the song was exactly perfect and there was nothing else to be done, they’d fall asleep. The exhaustion would arrive as suddenly as the thunderspiration had. More than once one of them would almost pass out, stumbling like a drunk before getting steadied in the other’s arms. Typically, they’d only have a few seconds to get to bed before darkness would fall over their eyes. Jisung joked that it was like coming home and suddenly having to pee so badly you have 10 seconds _tops_ to get your ass to the toilet.

At some point they had set up a foam mat and a Pusheen blanket in the studio. (The blanket was Han’s choice.) They’d crash onto it like a pair of rag dolls, bodies clumsily intertwining for warmth.

But despite their synergy, Bang Chan wasn’t like Han. When it came to work, he couldn’t be more different. He was hard-working, dedicated, and stubborn.

When out of inspiration, going to the PC room to chill out wasn’t an option. Bang Chan would just sit in the studio, staring blankly at the laptop screen. Starting to write, then stopping and sighing and throwing the paper away, crumpling it each time more forcefully than the last. As time would go on, the paper would miss the waste bin more and more often – and that frustrated Chan even more.

On the other hand, undoubtedly, Chan would get more work done. He’d do so much every single day, bad days included. But he’d suffer a lot for it. It was obvious in his deep grey eyebags, weak laughter, the sad crinkle in his eyes.

More than once, Han had tried to get Chan to do it his way. He’d blackmail him with naked photos he had secretly taken in the dorm, or cringy selcas from middle school (don't ask how he even found those).

At times he’d physically drag Chan out of the studio, or bother him until he complied, poking his ribs and messing up his hair. He’d take him out to eat something delicious – or to the arcade – or just to the park for some fresh air.

He’d try to get Chan’s mind off of that unfinished song waiting for him in the studio – a song he had struggled the entire last week to finish, but with no satisfactory result. He’d talk relentlessly with (or _at_ ) him, point out the beautiful cherry blossoms that had just opened up – or mock Chan’s gaming skills in order to at least evoke a reaction.

But Chan would remain a zombie. He’d respond minimally, with a fake, polite cheerfulness that had become an everyday mask, his mind obviously still locked up in that studio, unable to escape. Unable to see the glamour of spring around him, unable to play games, and unable to notice how Han’s big, concerned eyes never really left his face.

Like the snowflakes had, now the cherry blossom petals fell on Chan’s face and hair entirely unnoticed. Again, Jisung would remove them, one by one. Delicately, but trying not to make it seem so.

Han wasn’t sure whether to envy Chan, or feel sorry for him. Yet, Chan’s state bothered him.

_I wish he could be happy. At least a little bit. Even one millionth of how we feel in the studio when things are going well and inspiration strikes._

There was another thought too, one that Jisung would always try not to entertain.

_I wish I could help more. I wish I could make him happy._

He couldn’t. Lord knows he had tried. Chan’s mind had its own mechanisms that were as stubborn as he was.

Mechanisms that Jisung could simply not understand.

“Aren’t you just wasting time?” Han asked one day in early May.

Chan was stuck, staring blankly at a single dot on the laptop screen. Han half-expected Chan to snap at him, but the leader remained silent as if he had never heard him.

_Was I kinda harsh?_ wondered Jisung and put his hands below the back of Chan’s neck, half-jokingly, half-apologetically massaging him. Chan only grunted, but still leaned forward in his seat so Han could massage him further. Unsurprisingly, Chan’s pale neck was stiff as a rock.

“I mean, if we went out for a lil break, your brain would work better.”

Another ambiguous grunt, then Chan went back to staring at the screen.

_Why do I even bother?_

It was hard not to feel bitter.

Going home that day, the last of the year’s cherry blossoms fell on Chan’s face, unnoticed as usual. Han swatted them almost angrily.

“If you just worked a little bit less, you wouldn’t be this tired.” he told Chan one night over chicken and beer. “And if you’re less tired, you can work better.”

Chan smiled. “There’s a lot to do though. We started out well, we can’t relax now-”

“Why not though? We already achieved so much!“

“So you’re satisfied?”

Han was kind of offended. “ _No_ , but we don’t have to keep running like this.” In a softer voice, he added: “You’ll get hurt.”

Chan sighed. “If we don’t put everything into this next album, everything we had worked so hard for until now, could all be gone in a second. The music world moves _fast_ , Han. We can’t lag behind.”

Jisung’s fist clenched, but that was the end of the conversation – even though Jisung still had an urge to, ironic as it was, beat some self-care into Chan.

What was even more frustrating was that no one seemed to share his concern. When he tried to talk to Changbin about it ( _what was I thinking??)_ , he was merely brushed off.

“Well, you know, Bang Chan’s always been like that. He can take care of himself.”

“Bang Chan couldn’t take care of a cactus.” murmured Han, a part of him knowing it wasn’t exactly true but too grumpy to care.

“Well I’ll have you know, _my_ Prickly is _thriving_.”

Jisung blinked at him. “You bought a cactus?”

“He has a _name_ you know, and it’s Prickly.”

“So it’s a male cactus?”

“Hard to imagine otherwise with that kind of shape.”

“Must’ve not seen a lot of action, ‘cause of thorns and all.”

“Prickly’s private life is his own, thank you very much. I’m not gonna have you kink-shame my cactus.”

But not even Changbin’s banter could raise Jisung’s spirits lately. The reason being (as hard as it was to admit) Bang Chan’s increasingly zombie-like state.

“Isn’t it all about balance?” said Jisung the following morning, watching Bang Chan absent-mindedly wandering around the kitchen ( _has he slept at all?? It seems he just came from the studio)_ and accidentally pouring beer onto his cereal.

“Huh…?” asked Bang Chan weakly, staring at the mess he’d made as if knowing something was out of place but unsure what exactly.

“Like, working regular hours and having some sleep so that you don’t end up with beer cereal-”

“Shit” whispered Bang Chan and rushed off to throw his concoction into the toilet.

_I need more drastic measures,_ concluded Jisung.

As much as it’d make him feel better, Jisung knew slapping Bang Chan’s face and yelling at him to _take care of himself or else_ wouldn’t do any good. He coined a different plan. Something rather brave, rather dumb, and very desperate.

He wasn’t sure when exactly to do it. They had to be alone, without any disturbances. The dorms were out of the question.

Unsurprisingly, it ended up being their studio – mostly because Bang Chan was hardly found anywhere else.

“I need to tell you something.” started Jising.

This did catch Bang Chan’s attention. His fingers stopped flying over the keyboard and hovered over it, awkwardly outstretched, as it aching to continue their work. “Yes?” Bang Chan’s eyes were wider than usual. Everyone gets scared when they hear “I need to tell you something”, Jisung supposed.

“I am going to quit.”

He saw Bang Chan’s look of absolute horror and his entire world collapsing, so he quickly added, “unless- unless! You start taking care of yourself.”

He didn’t mean for it to come out that lame. It had sounded a lot better in his head. Jisung wondered if Chan would even take him seriously.

“…Don’t scare me like that.” Bang Chan sounded out of breath, as if punched in the stomach.

_Am I losing my chance?_ thought Jisung, panic building. It was his only shot, his only plan. “Chan, I’m very serious.” He tried to sound very serious too. He wasn’t particularly good at being very serious – but he hoped he could somehow pull it off.

Bang Chan smiled weakly, then awkwardly reached for Jisung’s hands. He held them tight.

“I- I know you’re worried, and that’s – that’s very… I appreciate it, but -”

“ _I can take care of myself_.” Han finished his words for him. “No, you cannot. Everyone can see that.”

Bang Chan blinked, suddenly taken aback. “Has anyone said anything?”

Jisung bit his tongue. “I mean, _I_ can see that. The others… don’t really understand how bad you’ve gotten. ‘Cause they’re not with you 24/7 like me.”

Despite himself, Jisung said that last part with a bit of indignant pride. He wasn’t supposed to be feeling that way, really – he had no more right to proclaim he knew Bang Chan better than anyone else on the team. Hell, Bang Chan was probably the closest with Felix, from having the same homeland and all.

_I’m not jealous_ , Han firmly told himself. _The others are just too busy to see what’s going on._

Some of what he was thinking must’ve shown on his face, because Chan suddenly stood up. Something in his tired eyes changed – a soft glow of sorts. Jisung didn’t have enough time to figure out what exactly it was though. Bang Chan stepped closer, and after a long gaze at his face, rested his huge hands on Jisung’s shoulder and slowly, softly kissed him.

If that kiss was a text message, it’d be a solid “????????????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”. At least, that was the only way Jisung could describe his own state of mind.

The kiss came out of the blue. Or did it?

Han remembered those night at the studio – the way Bang Chan would hold his hand at random intervals, the way his big hands would hold onto Han’s waist or shoulders at every possible opportunity. The way he’d hug him sometimes while sleeping on the mat in the studio, and the way Han would wake up carefully tucked in like a baby, Bang Chan long gone and off to continue working.

He leaned in for another kiss, yet Jisung stopped him.

“Only if you listen to me.” he whispered. They were so close, even that whisper sounded loud.

It was hard to be determined when Chan’s plump lips were so close to his. It took all his willpower not to nibble on the upper one. But there were important things to be done first.

Bang Chan looked confused.

“Only if you listen to me,” Jisung repeated. “No more all-nighters. Two hours of sleep every day, _at least_. Eating something every day. At least a snack.” It felt weird to be talking to Bang Chan like this – as if he was a naughty child. _He IS behaving stubbornly as a child though,_ Jisung reminded himself.

Finally, Bang Chan’s lips broke into a smile. “Okay.” he said softly, almost laughing.

“You have to promise.”

“I promise.” he whispered, before deciding he had waited long enough and locking Jisung’s lips again.

Han felt like he could play with Bang Chan’s lips for hours. There always seemed to be a new way to kiss, a new softness to discover. He slightly slid his tongue in, and from that point on his thoughts turned fuzzy.

He would’ve liked to have achieved more with this deal, though. A full night’s sleep, three meals a day, a free day every week (he tried not to think of it as _a date with me every week_ ). But considering how stubborn Bang Chan was, what they had agreed on was already a victory.

It was funny, though, how in the span of a few minutes he had realized what he had felt for Bang Chan was more than a friendly concern, and proceeded to make out with him as if he had planned it all along. Maybe because, if he was being completely honest, he had thought – and hoped – for something like this. The thoughts were never allowed to come to the surface of his consciousness – but them lurking there for so long, even in the shadows, made this turn of event so, so easy to go along with.

It was part of his life philosophy, too – following the inspiration of the moment, following the thunder-like feelings that were striking him so clearly right now. Kissing Bang Chan was not all that different from writing a song.

Not to mention how _soft_ Bang Chan’s lips were. He never wanted him to stop, ever.

Unfortuntely, Bang Chan did – after three minutes or three hours, Jisung could not tell. He felt dizzy.

”I’ll keep you to your word.” said Han, trying not to sound out of breath even though he very much was.

Bang Chan smiled before burying his face in Jisung’s neck. “Please do.” He muttered something else too, so quietly Han could not be sure if he had truly heard it.

“I can’t do this alone.”

They hugged for a very long time. Jisung couldn’t help but notice how he could trace each of Bang Chan’s individual ribs, even through his shirt. He swore to himself he’d be damned if he let Bang Chan wiggle his way out of the eating part of their promise.

It was a few weeks before anyone noticed a change in Bang Chan. Not a big change either – a bit of flesh on his ribs, a steadier glow in his eyes, his eyebags receeding just a little. Yet, it was something. Jisung felt oddly proud of himself – but, even more proud of Chan.

He knew damn well, however, that Bang Chan would never be as carefree as him, or adopt his philosophy of waiting for strikes of inspiration. Perhaps that was for the better. Their synergy was due to their differences as much as it was due to their similarities. That was why their music was so good- and why their breathless nights, intertwined more intimately than ever on that thin studio mat, felt so right.

One thing that never changed was Bang Chan being utterly clueless about having snowflakes or flowers or leaves all over his face and hair. Except now, Jisung didn't have to hide the delicate way he’d remove them, and the delicate feelings that went along with removing them.

“Thanks.“ Bang Chan would always say, making sure no one was watching before giving Jisung a soft kiss on the neck, or playfully pulling aside his oversized shirt to kiss his shoulder.

“Someone had cured Zombie-Chan,” commented Changbin one day at the dorm, when Bang Chan was safely out of earshot.

“I guess they did.” whispered Jisung softly.

**Author's Note:**

> dunno I just noticed their different working styles and thought I'd make fluff out of it
> 
> umm please leave kudos and / or a comment if you liked it? ^0^
> 
> \+ are you more like bang chan or jisung in this story?
> 
> (I feel like I'm more of the inspiration-following type)
> 
> or maybe you're like neither and you just want to protect your cactus from invasions to its privacy


End file.
